Consumed
by DivinelyLoved
Summary: The Doctor has been running his whole life, but is he chasing something, or just runny away from it all? What happens when all the mistakes of the past catch up with him?


**A/N: I've been wanting to write a Doctor Who story for years but have never gotten around to it. To be honest I used to love to write but the past couple years I have quit writing completely. Only recently have I begun the tedious task of getting back into writing again. For this reason I may be a little rusty on my character development and other writing skills, so hang in there with me and as I continue to write, hopefully I will get back into the swing of things and the writing should continue to improve.**

**So…without further ado…**

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

Peril. The Doctor had heard the word many times before, he had even taken part in creating it, but never before had the Doctor ever really thought about its definition.

Loss. Destruction. Grave risk. Jeopardy. Danger.

Now, with his daughter dying at his side and a piece of shrapnel digging into his skin, dangerously close to one of his hearts, the Doctor knew the meaning of the word only too well. He had tried to save everyone, to keep them all safe, but only now was the Doctor realizing that it would be impossible to continue his balancing act between preserving the universe and protecting it. Everything comes to and end. He knew that better than anyone.

But it was all to be expected. When time was constantly breathes down your neck, sometimes its easy to lose track of things. Constant running can make someone into the most oblivious person in the world when they should be the one paying the most attention. This is when legends begin to have more truth in them than the knowledge written down in text books, so much that the educated massed become the most illiterate to deciphering the knowledge of the world.

Is it possible to be blinded by your own intelligence?

The Doctor let his mind wander back to the days and years he had spent voyaging across endless oceans of sky and traipsing across forests filled with beings that no one would ever be able to conjure up with pure imagination.

All of creation now lay before the Doctor and it was now clear to him that all along, as noble and courageous he had tried to be, despite all his sacrifices, work, and discoveries, he had never been able to find what he was looking for.

Love had consumed his heart time and time again, but no one had ever been able to tell him what he had been looking for. This timelord had become more of a time-angel; showing up countless times in stories of distant planets. Even galaxies in the furthest reaches of the universe had heard of him; ones that he had never even set food upon, knew of the strange doctor who changed faces but who was always recognized by his blue vessel called the TARDIS.

He had spent so much of his energy running, but yet he had never known what he was running from. If anyone in the history of the universe had been able to work his way to becoming a god, it would be the Doctor, but he could just as easily be the devil.

The Doctor reached out his hand and touched the cheek of his daughter who lay before him. Her chest still continued to rise and fall, but the longer they sat, the more irregular the breathing became. He didn't wish for a new regeneration for her. It was simply too much to hope for. More than he deserved.

Off in the distance the first reaches of the sun were beginning to illuminate the sky, brining it back to its magnificent red. The Doctor sighed, clutching his chest as he did so, his wound still bled, and he knew it would not be long before his own regeneration would begin. He looked down at the face of his daughter. Her face, despite the scratches and bruises that covered it, still seemed to be the most beautiful thing he had seen before.

Suddenly, the wound in his chest seemed to enlarge to twice its size, but it was not his skin that was breaking, it was his hearts. Now, for the second time, he had lost this child. Somehow this would be harder than the first time.

What was the cause for one soul going through so much loss?

Rose. Donna. Sarah Jane. Martha. Romana. Tegan. All these faces and many more flashed through his head, conjuring up memories of joy and then loss. There were other faces two: a young couple who the Doctor could not recall ever having had met before, somehow, he felt loss for them as well.

Again the Doctor looked up at the sky. He could guess that by the time that the sun had risen over the mountains he would not be himself any more. The shrapnel would by that time have either made it far enough into one of his hearts or the loss of blood would have triggered the regeneration cycle.

"_At least,"_ he thought, _"at least, she will be able to see the sun rise in the place of her ancestors before she goes."_

The Doctor's daughter coughed beside him. She opened her eyes wide, the fear obvious in them. She tired to suck in an adequate amount of oxygen for her failing lungs but her dying body was not able to do it for her.

"Jenny! Jenny!" the Doctor leaned over her, brushing the hair out of her eyes, "Jenny, please, don't…don't hold on just for me. Don't do it just for your Dad. Jenny…"

Her eyes traced the lines on his face, the pain of loss was obvious, tears were beginning to run down his freckled skin. She turned her head to look at the mountains her father had just been studying. She felt like crying, but was too exhausted to do so. She still wheezed in attempt to continue to breathe.

"Dad…" she whispered, "is this…" she could not say the rest, she could feel her life slipping away from her.

"Yeah, Jenny, it's Gallefrey, isn't it beautiful?"

Already having exhausted her voice Jenny simply turned her head back to the sight of the sun rising over the beautiful mountains, with a tear running down her cheek.

"Daddy," Jenny whispered with the last amount of strength left in her, "I never got to tell you…"

"Gin, Jenny, tell me what?" the Doctor urged gently while Jenny worked to gain a little bit more strength.

… "I missed you…," finally, exhausted or not, the tears came easily now, "…and, it's still here."

"What's still here?" the Doctor asked, not understanding her statement, but Jenny could no longer answer.

Here wheezing and coughing began again, worse than they had before. She began to shake and her tears continued to fall because of the fear the consumed her. The Doctor grabbed her in his arms and held onto her as tightly as he could, as if doing so would keep her alive. He remembered the last time he held her like this. The situation had been very similar. Although this time, he knew there would be no second chances.

After her fit stopped, the Doctor sat there, holding his last child in his arms, listening to her heart beats until they died away completely, wishing only that he could have her back. He was unsure of how long he sat there with her. Only when he could feel the burning inside of him brought on by the regeneration, did he let her go.

As the Doctor stood up, his body began it's changes. Energy floated from his body, seeming like a harmless magic trick until his body exploded into a brilliant light, recreating itself within brilliant golden orange flames.


End file.
